I cry for the world.
Happiness? Sadness?
Relief? Grief?
I do not know
But these tears I shed
for _us_.

Codes, pieces, fragments...
	all a net of memories.
Swimming through my head

Ilaria Graziano – Dew

Genetically Co-evolved: The Elephant & The Ghetto Blaster

[pic via Brock Davis]

Progressive Rock.

King Crimson, Rush, Genesis.

These are the bands with pictures over the definition of “Pretense“, one of the worst offenses of Douchebags everywhere. I mean, I can take some proggy songs, some of the time, but when some frat boy plunks $5 into the jukebox, I pray that we aren’t in store for 80 minutes of rock opera crooning and over the top drum solos. [[1]]Although I gotta admit, you get your band for your buck with the 10 min+ songs.[[1]]

Prog Rock is one thing, but I am not ashamed to admit: Pink Floyd… is a great band. Ever since I was first enthralled by “Time”, and the rest of Dark Side of the Moon (the pinnacle of stoner rock){{1}}, The Wall (We Don’t Need No Education), both super selling mega classic rock blockbusters. [[1]]Anyone remember chillin’ out after the party, sleepin’ in the back of the truck, buzzed and cold, but happy to be among friends, underneath the starry, starry night?[[1]] Although DSotM will always be my first and favorite, my really close second is not “The Wall”, but “Animals”.

Pink Floyd’s tribute to George Orwell’s story, “Animal Farm”, this album has a short, but sweet tracklist:

1. Pigs on the Wing, Pt. 1 (1:25)
2. Dogs (17:08)
3. Pigs (Three Different Ones) (11:28)
4. Sheep (10:20)
5. Pigs on the Wing, Pt. 2 (1:25)

Songs there are few, but each of the 4 animals get over 10 minutes of haunting singing and guitar solos. Sung from the perspective of the animals, songwriters Roger Waters and David Gilmour imbue each animal with a negative trait. Waters—the mastermind behind the spiral of despair that is The Wall—wrote all of the songs except one.

My favorite member of Pink Floyd{{2}}[[2]]Barring Syd Barrett, band headmaster during Pink’s early, psychadelic days[[2]], David Gilmour—the acoustic genius behind Dark Side I might add—is the writer and guitar player on one of my favorite songs of all time, “Dogs”.

Who was born in a house full of pain.
Who was trained not to spit in the fan.
Who was told what to do by the man.
Who was broken by trained personnel.

Who was fitted with collar and chain.
Who was given a seat in the stand.
Who was breaking away from the pack.
Who was only a stranger at home.

Who was ground down in the end.
Who was found dead on the phone.
Who was dragged down by the stone.

Fairey did a nice job on the new cover

Fact being that I still can’t give a solid answer on the difference between Communism & Socialism (can you?) though, admittedly a lot of the meaning behind Orwell’s story went straight over my 10 25 year old brain. If anything though, it planted the seed of my extreme distaste for greed, materialism and politricks.

While Animal Farm’s message resonated with my young soul, 1984 also hit me hard like a ton of bricks. Unlike the communist oriented Farm, ’84 was a story whose message was directed toward the lovely type of capitalistic western empire that I call home{{3}}, AND was named after the year of my birth. But nonetheless, Animal Farm wins out. I’m not stupid enough to miss the reason why though: Instead of oppressive Big Brothers and boring Ministries, you have Talking Animals™. Anthropomorphism wins again (See above elephant).

[[3]] Industrial England, Corporatist America whatever. Semantics.[[3]]

I reread it every other year or so, and like any good book, I always find new meanings & messages every time. Squealer is my most despised character though. True to his name, this greedy pig had a mastery of the enemy’s cruelest, yet most least recognizable tactic of oppression, one that is in both 1984 and Animal Farm: the corruption and controlling of the very language we speak, think and and record history with. Squealer’s sly manipulation of the clueless sheep and the hardworking and loyal—but dimwitted—Boxer, the powerhouse of Animal Farm, has gotta be some of the worst examples of the perversion of power. Yuk. I’m glad I’m no pig.

But what about you? Are you a dog, pig or sheep?

But I don’t kick it with all the clothes. I guess I kinda discriminate.
Discrimination = bad.

So I guess I could never do what homegirl does and post up the latest trends & fashions. Not my niche.

But I do like T-shirts!

I LOVE T-shirts!

After all, it’s the only thing I wear on my torso (I can count how many times I wear a jacket a year on two hands, possibly one).

Here are a bunch of T-Shirt blogs, a niche that’s exploded since Preshrunk started (I wanna say this is the first, at least it’s the first I’ve noticed)

http://www.iloveyourtshirt.com/

Luckily (?) I’m half asian so I got the JUICE that comes in the can (thank god for the commissary). None of that carton shit tho (I always begged my mom for the Donald Duck OJ), that 40 cents a can shit (at least it used to be). But it was always made hella fucking watered down so it would last longer.

Went to college and I had it the way its supposed to be made.

“GOD DAMN THIS IS FUCKIN SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!” Too sweet even. My mom hella brainwashed me. Now I hella water down juice and shit. Thriftyness wins again.

But when I was little little and we were poor poor, I always had the fake kool-aid. Red. It’d always be bed time and I’d say “Can I have some red juice?” My mom cups her hand: “Here you go” =((((((((((((((((((( >=(

And it annoys me that that powered nestea shit is called TEA. Dammmit its drink! nesDRINK.

PS: White people eat cheese. See Boondocks, ep.1

It’s been refreshing.

I’ve been at an “End of Days” kinda state, what with me preparing to move on from my life as a San Diegan, a student, and a boyfriend. Everything is urgent, but for once in a long time, I’m not stressed about that shit. And since I’m spending less time staring at a screen, my mind is free to actually think about all this stuff.

People.

I miss people. Going back homehome for Christmas made this fact all too apparent. I’ve been spending so much time looking at the world through a 15″ window that I lost track of the 24/7/365 lifestyle.

I have a hard time finishing things.

That’s an understatement.

I actively try to leave things as unfinished as possible.

I have a slew of lists of things that are unfinished and could type em all out right now. But that’s not too productive. I keep on carrying that baggage; it’s always on my mind (and on my OmniFocus todo list) forever.

I’ve stopped living, I’m only experiencing. Level Grinding. Except I’m fighting monsters that were strong 2 chapters ago; the XP I get from them is not worth the time it takes for me to select “Fight, Attack” over and over again.

No more.

I’m no longer a scratch pad — I’m a canvas. Paint, paint paint paint paint. The research is done. I know more than needs to be known.

It’s time to lead the prayer.

One misstep'll kill ya

Something I saw today is making me feel like crap. Knots in the stomach, sweaty/tingly extremities, and propensity to cry at slight emotional instability. I must be syncing up or something… Sigh.

Someone once told me, “You paralyze yourself when shit goes wrong, so that you’re unable to get up and make it right”. Looking back at my blogger-days posts, I can see myself beating myself up so hard over shit like this. When it comes to intrapersonal stuff, I have a lotta deep, dark wounds, which I try to hide with wit & sarcasm & aloofness. When something got through those defenses though, I shut down. Hard.

These days, I feel as if I’ve made some progress–at least mentally, but I still get that physical/emotional hangover. And this event hits really close to home. Blah. Said I’d stop writing self-indulgent posts like this after blogger. I guess I just don’t know when to stop sometimes.

Gotta Get up, move on, and make it right. It’s the only way. To survive.

.:.

On a tangentially related note, I was reading the blog of one of my few frenemies yesterday. Turns out he had a lonely, shitty birthday on the 5th, and he has no real friends. I saw the title and thought I’d feel good readin’ the post, especially after the way he treated me the same day many years ago:

While b-day boy and all the cool kids (i.e. everyone else) were locked in his room laughin’ and havin’ a ball, I was sittin’ in the livin’ room babysitting his two elementary school brothers. I asked if I could come in, to which everyone replied, “NO.” Even homeboy’s mom ignored me and didn’t even look at me as she passed by to take snacks & sodas upstairs.

I have never forgotten how lonely, out of the loop, and plain shitty I felt that day. This experience, along with my first heartbreak still gives me hella insecurities and make up the biggest of my aforementioned wounds. Simple things such as not gettin’ a call back from someone can lead me to thinking that everyone hates me and I have no friends. So while I never wish ill on anyone, with this guy, I thought I’d be happy to see some karma in action.

I’m not. I pity him and his square head.

.:.

Fucking life. Fucking karma.

I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to do that.

I saw the Dark Knight a few weeks ago with my friends. It does indeed live up to the hype. Batman finally gets the cinematic experience the character deserves.

Sound Familiar?.

YouTube – Obama-Osama Church Sign.

UGH.

I’ve been tempted to post about politricks more here… especially about the Palin Pick.

But FUCK. This shit just pissed me off!

Good thing nobody brought a chair, or I’d hafta throw it.